


Sing Sweet Nightingale

by LustDemonRosier



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Cinderella - Freeform, Cursed Dean, Cursed Object, Established Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester, Fem Dean, Girl Dean, Glass Slipper, M/M, Princess Dean
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-01
Updated: 2013-10-01
Packaged: 2017-12-28 03:02:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/986894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LustDemonRosier/pseuds/LustDemonRosier
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I don't think it's exactly a curse, Dean,” Sam said casually. The older Winchester shot him an angry look, irritated by his brother's complete lack of concern.</p>
<p>“How is it not a curse, Sam?” huffed Dean. “I have tits!”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sing Sweet Nightingale

“I don't think it's exactly a curse, Dean,” Sam said casually. The older Winchester shot him an angry look, irritated by his brother's complete lack of concern.

“How is it not a curse, Sam?” huffed Dean. “I have tits!”

Dean had not moved from his position in front of the full length mirror in their motel room since his unsettling transformation. Staring at his new figure didn't make the situation any less uncomfortable. In fact it probably made it worse to keep looking at his too slim waist and his perky breasts. Under his loose t-shirt and unbuttoned flannel the new features were subtle but definitely undeniably female. He was half hoping that glowering at his reflection would will the change away.

“What if I'm stuck like this?” he groused, putting his hands, now slender and unfamiliar on the graceful curve of his hips. Sam just stuck his bottom lip out and shrugged. “You probably like this, don't you, Sammy? Why don't you put the damn thing on and then we'll see who's laughing it up.”

“Dean,” Sam said softly, trying to be soothing.

“Don't you 'Dean' me!” growled the older hunter before kicking at the stupid shoe that he had discarded on the floor a few minutes ago. They acquired the sparkly little thing the day before after reading several news reports about unexpected engagements. Unexpected was actually a bit of an understatement. The volley of bizarre impending marriages in Bad Axe, Michigan was so outlandish that it grabbed the attention of the Winchesters. So far three young women were planning weddings with celebrities they never met, two ugly ducklings had won the heart of their very handsome high school crushes, and one seventy-eight year old widow was now shacking up with her twenty-three year old neighbor. The garish footwear was being passed between acquaintances in the town like chlamydia at a frat party and the outbreak of romance was undoubtedly supernatural.

“We'll figure it out,” assured Sam. “And maybe this will teach you a lesson about touching cursed objects.” Dean took a few more moments to take in his appearance. He was still the same height, supermodel tall for a woman, and his frame was less broad but still well muscled. Even with the same short haircut, he could be a Victoria's Secret Angel which gave him a secret rush of pride in his outstanding good looks.

“Okay, so where do we go from here?” he wondered, peeling his eyes away from his reflection for a minute to glance at Sam. “And don't you dare say 'call Bobby'.”

They sat on separate beds to talk out their game plan, rehashing everything they knew so far about the weird shoe hoodoo so far. The dainty high heel appeared to be made of crystal, not glass, as one would assume, and it was studded with tiny glittering stones. The crystal made sense, Dean decided, since crystal boasted many metaphysical attributes. As far as Dean could discern, it was a chick flick version of a magic lamp; instead of rubbing it to summon a genie, one had to put it on and in turn they could attain their heart's desire or some such bullshit. In the fairy tale, the shoe only fit one foot but it seemed this particular slipper was a little more accommodating, transforming the wearer to fit its shape. The fact that Dean had a little fixation with wearing woman’s clothing now and then was his downfall. So far only women had benefited from the shoe's mojo and Dean had been harmlessly entertaining the idea of trying it on since they grifted it off the seventy-eight year old cougar with some cock and bull story about reuniting Sam with The One Who Got Away. Dean had not anticipated the shoe changing him to conform to its dimensions. Or turning him into a veritable pretty princess in the blink of an eye while Sam showered.

“We know the curse is time restricted,” Sam pointed out, obviously trying to avoid looking at Dean's chest. “Remember the second witness we interviewed yesterday?”

“The one who said her cat turned into a seamstress?” asked Dean cynically.

“Yeah,” insisted Sam. “Her friend gave her the shoe to help with her, uh, love life.” His eyes flicked to Dean's breasts before quickly darting away.

“And her tabby went all What Not To Wear on her wardrobe,” Dean continued, not seeing the connection between the prematurely crazy cat lady and his problem.

“She said that when she woke up the next day, her cat was back to normal,” Sam went on, spreading his hands wide like there was a big picture Dean should see.

“And?”

“And the shoe didn't fit her foot anymore.”

“So what? She got better once Cinderella syndrome ran its course?” the older of the two scoffed.

“Yeah, I guess.”

“I'm not wagering my masculinity on your guess, Sammy,” Dean grumbled, narrowing his eyes at the glistening slipper askew on the floor. “Man, what if my Baby turns into a pumpkin?”

“I don't think that's how it works, Dean,” pointed out Sam, always the rational one. He got off the bed and threw a towel over the girly shoe before picking it up and stashing it in a dresser drawer. For a few long seconds Sam towered over the crappy dresser, stewing in a way that Dean recognized as angst.

“What?” Dean grunted, sounding more whiny than irritable with his higher female voice.

“The crazy cat girl,” Sam started, “she wasn't interested in romance.”

“Don't beat yourself up over it, Sammy,” Dean leered, “you can do better than that.”

“No, Dean,” sighed Sam, being bitchy about his brother's teasing, “the curse broke because she didn't wish for some hunky dream man.”

“Her loss,” Dean shrugged with a laugh.

“Knock it off!” snapped Sam, whirling around to face his brother. “If you wished your perfect lover into town, we're going to have a whole other mess of problems on our hands.” Dean instantly understood Sam's outburst and laughed inwardly because Dean was the one with lady parts but Sam was still acting like an insecure girlfriend.

“What, baby?” Dean jeered. “Jealous?” Sam slumped against the dresser, arms folded defensively over his massive chest while he made his trademark bitchface. That look, those knitted eyebrows and that determined pout, always made Dean a little turned on. He lifted himself off the bed and sauntered over to Sam, swaying his hips in an experimental display of feminine flirtation. Sam kept pouting and refusing to look his brother in the eyes even when Dean was an inch from pressing their bodies together. “You're cute when you're possessive.”

“Dean,” whined Sam.

“You think I'm gonna blink Ryan Gosling into our motel room now that I suddenly have a pussy?” Dean prodded. “Why would I do that,” he whispered, leaning in so his words would tickle Sam's ear, “when I've got you, right here?”

**Author's Note:**

> Cursed object fic. Not complete, but I posted anyway so I would be motivated to finish it in the next couple days. Not beta'd. Feel free to comment, review, or heck, even make requests about what Sammy should do to girl!Dean. Thanks for reading, and of course, thanks to the creators of the show and characters.


End file.
